


The Ease Of The Gods

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Desire, F/M, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Multi, Secrets, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 13:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3812635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>King Horik and his son Erlendur have heard of King Ragnar and his alliance with Christians. He even keeps a Christian slave. It is rumoured he is not listening to the gods anymore. King Horik declares it will be easy to rid Kattegat of King Ragnar, to gain land for his son and glory for the gods. But nothing in this world is easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ease Of The Gods

**Author's Note:**

> An alternative version of what could have happened, features heavy spoilers for the season two finale episode 2x10 'The Lord's Prayer.'

 

 

 

“It will be easy,” King Horik declared.

 

It would be easy because King Ragnar, having so recently grabbed the crown, was a man of many people. He had three brides, a brother who had already tried to overthrow him, surely there were more amongst King Ragnar's subjects who felt such urges. King Horik said that King Ragnar was also a man of the gods, that he had been blessed with five sons, but that King Ragnar could not be trusted. Hadn’t he chosen to keep a thrall from among the Christians who declared that there was only one god? And hadn’t he become allies with those Christians, gaining fertile ground in another country, a place which the gods themselves had shunned?

 

“King Ragnar is a man who should not be king,” King Horik said quietly, as his council gathered. “How will the gods bless us with such a man ruling close to us?”

 

His men agreed. But it would do no good to fight King Ragnar outright – his warriors were strong and feared. They had slaughtered all who had dared cross them. One of his brides, Jarl Ingstad, ruled as a jarl in her own right and frequently combined her forces with King Ragnar’s. Another bride of Jarl Ragnar's was Aslaug, once a princess now a queen, who provided the weight of her family’s name and legend and her gift of prophecy. King Ragnar himself, when he was just a jarl, had killed the man who was jarl before him in open combat. He had surrounded himself well.

 

But King Horik still said it would be easy.

 

“King Ragnar has already forgotten what it is to be lean and close to the ground, to hear the gods instead of himself. He listens to Christians now.”

 

A message had recently come from King Ragnar, asking King Horik to meet with him, so that they could know each other better, their kingdoms neighbouring as they were. King Horik accepted.

 

*

 

Erlendur, son of King Horik, tried not to stare. He gazed around Kattegat, at where King Ragnar ruled from. There were so many people swarming the open square beyond the longhouse. Erlendur could see shieldmaidens and warriors, metalworkers and fishermen, children and animals. He wondered who his father believed could be used against King Ragnar, which glinting eye could be turned.

 

King Ragnar was waiting for them. He was not a large man and did not wear a gold circlet. But his gaze was intense and he looked at the large party King Horik had brought with him without surprise. He wore a long furred cloak, as did the slim curvy woman beside him. Her eyes were incredibly knowing and she held herself with grace and expectation.

 

“King Horik,” King Ragnar broke the silence as King Horik made no move to dismount and so put himself lower. “You and your men are welcome.”

 

“Ah, it is good to see you, King Ragnar. You wear his sword well.”

 

King Ragnar’s expression seemed to break into something like a smile though the edge on it was fine, “Come, there is food and welcome to be had.”

 

A cheer went up and King Horik finally dismounted, Erlendur slid down from his horse too. King Horik looked at his son and did not say a word. King Horik’s men, those he trusted, spread out amongst King Ragnar’s people. There was work to do.

 

Inside the longhouse, all was familiar – tables and fires, drink and food being consumed. Fists were hammered against tables and great laughter frequently went up. Perhaps this was why it would be easy, this was familiar territory. Thralls brought forth loaded platters while King Ragnar sat at the furthest elevated table. He was talking to a thin man with curling brown hair and a fine-featured expression. The man looked amused and nodded, picking up a small boy who had been playing at his feet apparently.

 

“You will sit with us of course.”

 

It was the woman who had stood beside King Ragnar, she smiled and introduced herself as Queen Aslaug. There was a small child clutching at her skirts while also holding a wooden sword. One of his eyes gave him his name – Sigurd Snake-in-the-Eye. King Horik chose a seat close to King Ragnar, beside Queen Aslaug herself. Erlendur sat on the other side of his father.

 

King Ragnar was still talking to the dark-haired man. Queen Aslaug looked fond and talked to Sigurd in a strange tongue.

 

“Athelstan promised, father,” another small boy insisted from in front of the table.

 

King Ragnar’s mouth twitched, “He is always making promises.”

 

Athelstan’s expression twisted and King Ragnar let him go, his gaze staying close to Athelstan as he followed the two boys over to a corner of the longhouse. Erlendur wondered, was this the Christian thrall that King Ragnar had claimed? Athelstan did not seem dangerous but those who were foolish enough to ignore the gods and worship another would only bring ruin to any and all that surrounded them.

 

The meat was plentiful and the ale flowed. There were cheers and shouts when yet more people entered to partake in the feasting and celebrating, especially when a woman entered, small and dressed as a shieldmaiden with pale gold hair and sharp unyielding eyes. Kind Ragnar smirked when he saw her.

 

“How is your village, Jarl Ingstad?” he asked.

 

Jarl Ingstad smiled a hard but triumphant smile, “Kalf is dead.”

 

There was another cheer and King Ragnar gestured for all new arrivals to sit and enjoy themselves. Jarl Ingstad lingered to smile further at King Ragnar, then a tall youth joined her, entirely confident. Jarl Ingstad inclined her head proudly.

 

“Our son fought well from the front,” she informed Jarl Ragnar. “And sent many to Valhalla.”

 

King Ragnar’s smirk grew and he turned slightly towards King Horik, “This is King Horik and his son Erlendur.”

 

Jarl Ingstad dipped her head, “Jarl Ingstad, and our son Björn Ironside.”

 

Björn studied them both and bowed a little from the waist. He had seen many battles, that was what the stories said, and he looked at ease with this fact. He caught the eye of a nearby pretty blonde girl who was big with child and who appeared to be waiting for him. Björn nudged his mother and swiftly left her side to join the waiting girl. Jarl Ingstad smiled after her and then stepped upwards to join her husband.

 

Erlendur watched as Jarl Ingstad ran a hand through Sigurd’s hair and smiled at him. He watched as she kissed Queen Aslaug with affection before exchanging long smirking looks with King Ragnar, as though they were talking without words. Then Jarl Ingstad sat beside King Ragnar and ate her own feast.

 

Erlendur listened to his father talk to Queen Aslaug, about dragons killed both in the mind and flesh. Erlendur watched as Björn and his woman talked intensely, as a tall long-haired man stared at Jarl Ingstad and his redheaded woman looked sad-eyed and drawn beside him. King Horik had been right; there was much here to use.

 

*

 

After the meal, Jarl Ingstad rose to her feet to talk to Athelstan and the two small boys. Athelstan was humble, his body deferential. The boys talked happily and gathered around her. Jarl Ingstad looked content.

 

Queen Aslaug talked to her handmaidens who appeared to lead Sigurd away – he wanted to play with his brothers and Jarl Ingstad seemed glad to have him. King Horik’s eyes were sharp and he finished his ale before speaking.

 

“The gods did not bless King Ragnar with five sons?”

 

Queen Aslaug’s eyes dimmed only a little, “He rests. His body is not strong.”

 

“Ah.”

 

Later, after talk of the kingdom that lay east and the bounty that King Ragnar had found across the water, King Horik retired for the night with his son and the rest of his men. Candles were lit and a guard posted. King Horik was pleased; his words had held true, this was going to be easy.

 

The men who had wandered amongst the crowd brought news – King Ragnar’s brother Rollo slept with Siggy, the wife of the last jarl. Both resented King Ragnar. And there was a shipwright called Floki who loathed the Christian Athelstan and King Ragnar’s good words with Athelstan’s people. Floki hummed with a desire to see the gods vaunted, not invaded by Christians and their foolish teachings.

 

“King Ragnar’s last son is called Ivar the Boneless,” Arvid reported quietly. “His legs are deformed; they say it is a judgement by the gods for King Ragnar’s bond with the Christians.”

 

“A true punishment,” declared King Horik. “We take this place for the gods.”

 

This kingdom would be King Horik’s, it would be his son’s. Erlendur smiled; he had always been promised gold and land and now he would get it. He would hold this place for his father, he would make it great. He hadn’t yet been bloodied in battle; this would be his chance, his glory.

 

A message would be sent to Queen Gunnhild, King Horik’s wife. She would come and join the celebrations between the two kingdoms; she would be there to spill blood with her shieldmaidens. Erlendur had never seen his mother fight. He knew that she would best all, even Jarl Ingstad, and what resistance would Queen Aslaug offer?

 

“You will become a man,” King Horik told him, clapping him on the back.

 

Erlendur stayed awake for some time that night, thinking of bloodied swords, twisted bones and blessings from the gods. This was to be their glorious path.

 

*

 

“What will happen to my son?” King Horik asked.

 

There was a murmur of bones and the Seer, shrouded in darkness and dust, replied, “I see blood and fire, handed down from fathers to sons. And there is an empty crown, but I see also a handful of dirt, how every kingdom begins.”

 

*

 

Siggy proved eager to see her former power restored to her and King Ragnar gone. Erlendur lay beside her and felt the determination of her body, the pleasure of a joining he had not known before. She whispered that he would be a great king.

 

Erlendur felt a hunger in his belly that he had not felt before and reached for her. He touched her breast and watched her respond. Surely this was power. He felt as though he was burning with it. He pressed her down and hunted for more.

 

King Horik spent time with Floki, talking of the gods and what could be achieved for them; how the Christians would be punished, how the land would be watered with blood. Floki’s movements were sudden but he nodded, his eyes ringed with black, his mouth sure and sharp.

 

Erlendur watched Rollo argue with his brother. King Horik told his son to talk to Athelstan, “He will give us what we need. He is weak.”

 

So Erlendur dawdled, observing Athelstan follow and watch over three of King Ragnar’s sons. They were teaching him how to use a wooden sword and he was clumsy and slow as he copied them. Athelstan noticed Erlendur and introduced Ubbe and Hvikserk and watched Sigurd wrestle with them. There was something wistful in his expression.

 

“You miss your family?” Erlendur guessed.

 

Athelstan looked surprised and shook his head, “I have no family.”

 

“Not even before?”

 

Athelstan’s expression became uneasy, “I was dedicated to the Christian god. Those I lived with then are all dead.”

 

Erlendur nodded. When he told King Horik, King Horik spoke of raids and how much gold Ragnar had brought back, it was said that priests across the water kept gold for their god. Whoever Athelstan had lived with had been killed during such a raid and he had been taken, a prisoner now a slave. The Christians, it was said, had allied themselves with King Ragnar to stem the flow of blood and use his strength for their own gains and those of their god; only King Ragnar was too blind to see this. It was plain Athelstan missed those who had been his family before.

 

Erlendur spoke more with Athelstan, watching as he spoke almost easily with King Ragnar’s sons, who both teased and ordered him around, young as they were. Athelstan was happy enough to show Erlendur around Kattegat, answering his questions. He claimed to be learning about the gods and would not speak of his own god, saying only that he could not speak of such things. His eyes betrayed his great unease and fear.

 

“He still believes in his pale god,” King Horik surmised with derision. “And will be glad to be free of King Ragnar. He will do what we ask.”

 

There was more news from those that listened and asked the right questions – Jarl Ingstad had given King Ragnar a son but she would not have any more children. King Horik smiled; he had been blessed with riches indeed.

 

*

 

“Have you thought of what kind of king you will be?” Siggy asked Erlendur one night.

 

King Ragnar’s brother Rollo was away talking to King Horik, he was distracted from wondering where his woman was. It was two lines of attack. Erlendur stared at her, the candlelight was dim but her red hair seemed to glow. She looked at him with interest.

 

“Like my father.”

 

Siggy didn’t look surprised, her hand touching his chest, “Of course. But no one walks the same path twice, and no man desires to only be remembered for his blood.”

 

King Horik was known for his deeds, not whose blood flowed through him. Erlendur lay back and thought of what battles lay ahead of him and how he might honour the gods. He wondered.

 

*

 

Floki secretly poisoned Torstein, one of King Ragnar’s warriors. There was anger and accusations in the air now. King Horik was pleased, especially when Queen Gunnhild triumphantly arrived. She kissed Erlendur and told him that this would be a great time for him. She talked with Jarl Ingstad who replied with clear eyes and introduced her to Queen Aslaug. King Horik was right; this really would be easy.

 

King Horik told Floki to kill King Ragnar’s young sons. Erlendur caught sight of Athelstan and King Ragnar, stood out by the shore together, two dark figures against the pale sky. He wondered what they talked about. He saw Jarl Ingstad, something untold in her eyes before she turned away. Erlendur gripped the hilt of his sword. It was to be another night yet.

 

Erlendur sat opposite King Ragnar in the longhouse, watching as Queen Aslaug whispered in her husband’s ear and smiled knowingly at Jarl Ingstad. King Ragnar, Erlendur realised, was watching him. King Ragnar’s gaze was very blue and his head was tattooed. His stare was keen on Erlendur. Erlendur had heard many stories of King Ragnar in battle, his skin painted with blood, his sword unrelenting. It was going to be a great victory when King Horik defeated him.

 

“You have not seen your first battle,” King Ragnar noted.

 

Erlendur tensed, was he so obvious? A man but not yet a man too? “I will.”

 

King Ragnar nodded, tearing himself free a chunk of bread. “It is a great thing to fight with the gods’ blessing, beside your family.”

 

King Ragnar had faced his brother on a battlefield before, now they fought side by side, even though Rollo’s anger still burned. They would face each other again soon though King Ragnar did not know it. Perhaps he would even face Jarl Ingstad too. Athelstan would help them. Erlendur had seen more of his sadness and yearning and he’d thought that he’d overheard Athelstan praying to his god once when the thrall had thought himself alone.

 

Erlendur smiled. He had learned to sit beside Athelstan and frequently refill his ale cup. Athelstan always spoke easily then, led into conversation about how King Ragnar spent his nights, of where he was most likely to sleep. He’d mentioned how some warriors liked to drink at certain hours when on watch, their attention woefully distracted, and how King Ragnar still complained of a pain in his chest. Athelstan had never sounded fond. He was going to bring ruin and destruction to Kattegat and glory to gods that he still foolishly denied.

 

*

 

All was quiet when King Horik’s men attacked. They swarmed through Kattegat; Erlendur could feel his blood pumping hot, his sword ready. Queen Gunnhild was with Jarl Ingstad, if Jarl Ingstad couldn’t be persuaded then Queen Gunnhild was armed and prepared. The people of Kattegat began to emerge, woken by the noise. They were armed but King Horik’s men were ready, swooping for where they had discovered Kattegat’s greater weaknesses.

 

It was said that Rollo would lead an attack on his brother's men at the west side of the village. After poisoning King Ragnar’s children, Floki would fight at the south. Erlendur could hear the sounds of battle already. He followed his father through the village, surrounded by metal clashing on metal and slicing flesh. King Horik cut his way through those that resisted as he headed for where King Ragnar slept. Erlendur held off blows with his shield, his heart wild, and struck with his sword. He thought that he spilled blood; it felt as though he had. Why else would every part of his body thrum? Why else would he feel so on fire?

 

He was a man now.

 

Erlendur thought that he saw Athelstan in the shadow of a building, wielding an axe, but he shook such an impossible image away. He did not want to miss a moment of what was truly happening.

 

The sounds grew and King Horik pushed past the doors he had sought. A hooded figure knelt on the floor, his back to King Horik. When he turned, it was not King Ragnar. Torstein, flesh and blood, stared back at them, a sword in his hand. Erlendur could not make sense of what he saw, how was this possible? It made even less sense when some of King Ragnar’s men burst in, felling the men with King Horik and Erlendur and taking King Horik and Erlendur’s weapons. Erlendur’s empty hands trembled.

 

Floki emerged from behind a screen, his face uncommonly still for once. Erlendur’s blood chilled. Floki had not killed Torstein. And here was Jarl Ingstad, carrying a bloody sword and shield. Queen Gunnhild. Erlendur did not gasp but he screwed his eyes shut for a moment. She would be in Valhalla now, all any warrior desired. He tried to hold onto that thought as his stomach lurched and his eyes prickled.

 

Rollo appeared from another corner, bare-chested, his long hair matted with blood. Queen Aslaug crossed her arms, wearing her implacable furious judgement like a crown. Björn glowered, sinewy with a face true of his parents. Athelstan held an axe in each hand, he was breathing hard and the sadness in his face was only for Erlendur. Erlendur stared; Athelstan looked a different man now, steady, entirely sober and unafraid, strong even. _How?_

 

“You have betrayed the gods, Floki.”

 

“No, King Horik. I have only betrayed you.”

 

King Ragnar gazed at his people and stepped forward heavily. King Horik was forced to his knees, Erlendur tried to step forward, tried to do something, but King Ragnar’s men held him back. Siggy handed King Ragnar a knife, her mouth a triumph. Her gaze only briefly touched Erlendur, it was not sorry at all. Erlendur’s chest felt crushed.

 

“Spare my son.”

 

King Ragnar’s gaze weighed Erlendur and it felt like an age before he nodded. There was a sound, perhaps Erlendur had made it. Then everyone but King Ragnar melted away and he slashed the knife through the air, marking King Horik before plunging the blade in a final time. _No!_

 

_Oh please. Why? He is yours now._

 

Erlendur turned his face away, shaking, trying to think only of the glory that now awaited his father, until he heard a noise. Athelstan had reappeared; he was praying over King Horik, to the gods. His gaze was focused and King Ragnar looked at him with hunger. Erlendur’s head spun. His world had been broken apart and nothing made sense any more.

 

Jarl Ingstad reappeared, her shield absent but her sword still drawn. Her eyes were frank upon Erlendur.

 

“Athelstan belongs to many gods.”

 

There was a plainness to her words, a finality as though nothing else mattered as she stepped away. Erlendur was vaguely aware of Jarl Ingstad nearing Athelstan and then cupping his face firmly. Athelstan looked at her with something like yearning adoration and Queen Aslaug, now carrying a talkative child, emerged once more.

 

Athelstan was carrying his axes in one hand. Erlendur thought that he saw a small wooden cross hanging from a cord around King Ragnar’s neck. But Erlendur could not trust his eyes anymore and truly there was nothing left for him to see.

 

_-the end_


End file.
